Real Data
by USS.Woodchiprise
Summary: A simple question - what if Star Trek was real? A 17 year old fan is thrown into the real world of Trek, escaping her ordinary life to live one of action, adventure and new friendships. She has always viewed one golden character as more than friend material, but also knows what's to come in the Enterprise's future... will she tell him he's to die? Can she let her love for him show?
1. I Wish

**Authors Note:** This is my first attempt at FanFiction, aside from my poem Pale Man. All reviews are extremely welcome, including any questions, suggestions or advice. I'll try to update as often as possible. I really hope you enjoy my story. Please note: spellings are in British English.

* * *

 _I'm sitting at a table in Ten-Forward, with my feet tucked to my right-hand side and my left elbow leaning on the table top. Four of my companions are laughing – some with big, head-thrown-back belly laughs and others with quiet giggles. Data quirks his eyebrows in recognition of my ironic pun, and the corner of his mouth lifts ever so slightly. Will reaches for a nearby tissue box and wipes his trickling eyes._

'' _Oh Willow, you are going to be the death of me! I've no idea how you weren't famous at the Academy; you could easily be on stage.''_

 _Deanna gives me her trademark encouraging smile. ''You have settled in remarkably well. I don't think anybody has ever become friends with most of the senior staff so quickly!''_

'' _It's just my natural charm'' I tease. ''And I haven't managed to make Worf or the Captain laugh yet… but I'll try to by the end of the month. The Captain's spending his shore leave on the ship, isn't he? I'll get him when his guard is down.''_

'' _Good luck with that'' Geordi deadpans. ''It takes him a long time to relax around somebody new, and I don't think I've ever heard Worf laugh.''_

'' _Picard to Riker.'' The Captain's voice comes out of the First Officer's combadge. ''May I see you in my ready room?''_

'' _Speak of the devil!'' I quip, and almost everyone has to cover their mouth to stop him hearing their laughter._

'' _I'm on my way, sir.'' Will stands up, swinging his leg over his chair rather than doing it properly. ''Doctor, won't you be needed in Sickbay?''_

'' _Yes'' Doctor Crusher sighs, standing up in the conventional way. ''I'll see you all at twenty hundred hours, for poker. You are coming, aren't you, Willow?''_

 _My eyes twinkle as I smile at my wonderful friends. ''I wouldn't miss it for the universe.''_

* * *

 **Snap out of it!** My mind screamed at me. **You're supposed to be sleeping, not conjuring up ridiculous fantasies in your head.**

I try to hold on to my imaginary world, but it's gone. Reality is back once again, along with all the sadness, boredom and worry that comes with it. My fantasy life is so much better than my real one, so I escape whenever I can… even though I know it's destroying me.

Turning over, I try to get comfortable. However tired I may be, insomnia dictates that I won't get to sleep until at least one o'clock, and that's if I'm lucky. Giving it up as a bad job, I slip out from under my duvet to kneel up with my elbows digging into my window ledge.

 **Why?** That's the question. Why can't I sleep anymore? Why do I live in my head when I have a perfectly good reality? Why am I always so depressed for no apparent reason? Star Trek is what I cling on to… and just like that I'm back inside myself, wearing a command uniform and standing on the bridge with Worf. _''You are honourable, Ensign Cooper. I will be recommending you for promotion to Junior Lieutenant when this mission is complete.''_

 **Yeah right! As if you'd make it in Starfleet, even if it was real. It's cling on, not Klingon, saddo.** My green eyes focus on the garden before me for the first time. Bushes and flowers in a riot of colours work their way up the emerald grass, culminating in my namesake at the top of the private space. The willow tree has stood for over fifty years, standing proud long before my house was built. The trunk is thick and sturdy at the bottom, slowly thinning out into delicate branches that hold the fragile tendrils that seem to glitter in the moonlight. If you stand in the shadow of the tree and reach upwards, you can almost brush the tips of the leaves hanging above you.

Above that tree, way up high, the stars seem to look down at me in peaceful serenity. In that moment, I realise the thing I want the most in the world is to be dancing among them, exploring strange new worlds. _To seek out new life and new civilisations. To boldly go where no one has gone before._ I'll never be content to do the same dull, menial tasks day after day, never feeling like I've achieved anything in my life. A change of scene is what I need to shake me out of this rut, the one I've been stuck in for the past couple of years. And what better backdrop than the stars? For the millionth time, **I wish Star Trek was real!**

A flash. A flicker. A beam of light.

It's gone so quickly I barely saw it at all. Just for a moment, by the base of the willow tree, a figure seemed to appear in a blue haze. As I was looking upwards, towards the stars, only my peripheral vision caught it… and my mind is filling in the blanks. Except those blanks look remarkably like transporter light.

 **No way. That's only because you've got a one-trek mind. Your brain fills in the image with what's in your memory and what you were thinking about at the time. It was probably just a flicker from a streetlight, or a sudden movement by a small animal.**

I know that… logically. But I can't help but think…. _What if?_ What if it was the real thing, and I'm about to throw away an amazing opportunity like so many main characters in books and films? So close, and yet so far… There are so many worlds out there, and it's highly unlikely that we're the only ones. They could be scouting for new intelligent lifeforms to join a real Federation. If I just _looked_ …

Pinch. A good hard one on my hand. Shaking my head – physically and mentally – I discard the idea and crawl back into bed. School tomorrow… followed by more homework… more school…

Back to my real life.


	2. Dark Investigation

Exhausted, I flopped down onto the sofa in my living room. It was a Monday, and I'd just walked in the front door, slung my schoolbag over the nearest chair and collapsed at the earliest opportunity. My mum came into the room, wearing her green gardening gloves and carrying a plant pot.

''How was school?''

I sighed. ''Just about bearable, as usual.''

''How are your friends?''

''Happy, as usual.''

''How about your grades?''

''Mixed, as usual.'' I knew I sounded like a sulky, petulant child. I just didn't care.

Mum set down the plant pot on the mantelpiece with a solid thud and turned to face me. ''I'm getting sick of your attitude, Willow. All you ever do is complain about your life, or act as though nothing matters. You've got a good home, great friends and a family that loves you… what more do you want?''

I closed my eyes and leant my head in my hand. ''We've been over this. It's not you, it's me. You can't understand because you just don't feel the same way I do – you have such a positive attitude. Your glass is half full. Mine's half empty… in fact, I don't think there's much in it at all.''

Sadness, frustration and annoyance battled over my mum's features. ''I want to help, but all you ever do is push me away. Your friends are coming over this weekend, aren't they? Why don't you talk about it with them? Whether you do or not, I don't want any more of this negative attitude in my living room. If you're going to sulk, then do it in your own room; not near everyone else.''

''Can do'' I muttered, a hint of venom in my tone. Why do people always wind me up? I pushed myself up and off the sofa in one fluid motion, turned away from my mum and stalked out the room. Once upstairs I switched on my laptop, sank into my desk chair and picked up a book. Any old one, just the first in reach. I always do that whenever I'm bored or trying to stop my mind running away from me, so I have a huge pile of books on the shelf under my desk. I sort them all out every couple of weeks, but they'll be messy again within a day.

'' _But what stuck in my mind was this – he said that cruelty was the devil's own trade mark, and if we saw any one who took pleasure in cruelty, we might know to whom he belonged, for the devil was a murderer from the beginning and a tormentor to the end. On the other hand, when we saw people who loved their neighbours and were kind to man and beast, we might know that was God's mark, for 'God is Love.'''_

'' _Your master never taught you a truer thing,'' said John; ''there is no religion without love. People may talk as much as they like about their religion, but if it does not teach them to be good and kind to man and beast, it is all a sham – all a sham, James; and it won't stand when things come to be turned inside out and put down for what they are.''_

By this time my laptop had turned itself on, so I immediately went onto YouTube. When the going gets tough, the tough watch Trek. It always cheers me up considerably, and a good binge was just what I needed.

* * *

About seven hours later I was sat at my desk, attempting to write a Literature essay due in the next day. **Why do I put myself through this?** It's a destructive cycle – I'm depressed and overworked, so I don't do my homework. Then I have to cram it all in, often staying up late at night, to get it finished in time. That makes me more stressed and tired, so I do less work… It's my own paradox, Schoolgirl Edition.

My mind wandered, going from me meeting my favourite band to a daydream of me being on stage in London to a vision of me rescuing the Enterprise once again, and being promoted to full Lieutenant. All my dreams seem to feature me interacting with my favourite characters or people. Realising that an hour had passed without me writing a word, I picked up my pen. _One example of Othello being virtuous is when he invites his new wife Desdemona to tell her side of the story when in the Venetian court, as women speaking in this setting was unusual unless they were being questioned. Allowing…_

My 'g' curved right around and streaked up my essay as I jumped. Seconds before, only the scratching of my pen broke the stifling silence that hung over the village like a descending fog. But a solid, undeniable _thud_ had just shattered it.

Standing, I rushed to my window, peering down through the darkness. I couldn't see anything amiss in the hazy gloom, but I was sure I heard something. Just like two nights ago, the intellectual side of me came up with a whole host of reasonable explanations. But once again I had the consuming desire to go and investigate, and it was even stronger than before. It _could_ just be a coincidence…

Making my decision, I crept out of my room and across the landing. Holding my breath and carefully stepping on the sturdiest part of each stair, I made my way downstairs to the front door. I carefully extracted my coat from its place on the coat hanger, pausing to make sure nobody else had heard either me or the mysterious noise. Everything was still, so after grabbing my keys and a torch and unlocking the front door I slipped out into the night.

Shining my torch ahead of me, I searched around the perimeter of the garden. After finding nothing strange near my tree I shone the narrow beam of light on the culprit – one of the fence panels between our garden and next doors' had fallen down. They weren't very sturdy, and often toppled when it was stormy. I sighed, both with disappointment and relief.

Until I realised there was no wind.

Sucking my finger, I stuck it in the air and concentrated my senses on the digit. Aside from the cold, I couldn't feel anything, not even a light breeze.

My heart pounding, I searched all around the panel with the torchlight. There was a large crack right in the centre, as though a heavy object had struck it. Lying innocently next to it was a large stone sculpture.

I crouched down on the grass, and tilted the stone so it rested on its flat edge. I recognised it immediately as the priceless artefact gifted to Captain Picard by his old friend, before he asked him to go on a long-term archaeological trip around the galaxy. **How the hell did it get here?**

Suspicious, I ran my hands over the object. Definitely stone, and it looks the same. **Maybe the resemblance is a mere coincidence?** My fingernails found a rim, just like on the show's original, and I knew this was either the real thing or an expensive collector's item modelled on it. Considering my neighbour was a dull old lady unlikely to be a super fan of anything, I found that highly improbable.

Lifting the top off and gingerly setting it down, I directed the torch inside the object. The strange little figures and shapes inside had been removed, with no traces remaining. But I was sure they had been there in the episode. But the far more interesting discrepancy was a small black box, the type that held small pieces of jewellery.

Excitement pumped through my veins, making my hands shake as I lifted the hinged lid. White light turned green as it shone through a very expensive-looking emerald ring, before bouncing off the angular cut in all directions. The metal appeared to be silver, or perhaps white gold.

My ankles were aching from crouching, so I stood up to study the ring further. I was convinced that this was significant – someone had sent that artefact and the ring. Maybe they were trying to send me a message? Or perhaps nobody had sent it, and some kind of space-time distortion caused it to land here.

Noticing the ring looked about my size, I had a reckless urge. I slipped it onto my right index finger.

That's when the world morphed before my eyes and my life changed for ever.

* * *

 _ **Author's Note:** the extract Willow reads is from Black Beauty by Anna Sewell. It's wonderful, and I strongly recommend it to anyone, especially those that love horses. It was written in the Victorian era (approximately 1830 to 1900, when we were ruled by Queen Victoria) and follows the rollercoaster ride life of a beautiful horse in a time when their lives were much harder than they are today. There aren't many religious references - mainly ones to being a good person. I just chose that extract because it's an example of the moral code the good characters live by, and the bad ones don't._


	3. Data Holmes

It was like everything around me just melted away, slipping out of my field of vision like paint dripping off a canvas. Everything from my hands to the stars disappeared, until all that was left was black. This all happened in seconds, before the darkness was immediately replaced by an image of a 19th century city. An image that _moved._

I was standing in a long, narrow street crammed with people, shops, houses, horses and carts. Everywhere I looked there was something new to see: a man flogging fresh fruit and veg from a quaint little stall, an elaborately-dressed woman climbing into a cab and children pressing their faces to bakery windows. I was so overwhelmed it took me a little while to realise that I could also _hear_ the sound of babbling voices, _smell_ the horse manure in the cab stands… and I _felt_ the burly man that ran right into me.

''Move out of the _way_ , Missus!'' he grumbled irritably. ''Don't just stand there gawking like you've never seen the street before!''

Alarmed, I scurried away down a little side street. Leaning against some black wrought iron railings, I continued to scan the crowds on the busy thoroughfare while I attempted to regain my wits. **What the hell has happened to me?**

People watching was fascinating, and for an undetermined amount of time I simply gazed in wonder at everything around me. A group of young boys were rolling metal hoops with sticks, just like the ones in an old storybook. The clothes were extraordinary – the rich wore smart suits or bustled corset dresses, whilst the poor dressed in sludge-coloured dungarees or plain, simple tops and trousers. If this was some kind of trick, it was certainly an elaborate one.

After finding no indication of how – or why – I got there, I decided I'd better keep moving. There might be a clue elsewhere, or perhaps an authority figure I could get help from. But what would I say? _'I'm terribly sorry to bother you, but I seem to have travelled about 200 years into the past. Could you please tell me what year it is?'_

Broad streets, narrow roads, dead ends with crammed terraced housing. The ring was tight around my finger, much tighter than it had seemed earlier. I slipped it off and deep into my coat pocket. On and on I walked, until my feet started to ache and the sun began to sink below the rooftops. Nobody gave me strange looks, or asked why I was wearing pyjamas underneath a coat the likes of which they had never seen. It was as if they looked at me and saw an ordinary teenage girl… ordinary for the century, anyway.

Up ahead I saw a disused factory, towering over the humble dwellings. Red brick walls were streaked in grime and black dust, and a metal staircase leading from the pavement to the top floor door looked rickety with rust. The door itself was open, and a man in an old-fashioned police uniform was walking through it. Tall comedic hat, navy jacket with a thick black belt and shiny gold buttons. He was the first officer I'd seen, and I was getting desperate. I could always pretend to be lost; that way I could hopefully be given somewhere to sleep for the night.

Picking up the pace, I weaved around the bustling crowds while keeping my eyes on the door. The policeman had gone inside, and there were multiple shadows at the windows. People appeared to be talking in a group, and then most of them moved further into the building. Their shadows decreased in size and then suddenly moved downwards and out of sight, as though they had gone down another staircase inside.

By this point I had reached the bottom of the old stairs, and hurriedly ascended them. If the group was breaking up, I needed to get in there before all of them had gone. I certainly didn't want to end up roughing it on benches like the poor waifs I'd seen, with thin body hands and dark-rimmed eyes.

Those steps were sturdier than at first glance, and my thick-souled trainers made no sound upon them. Reaching the summit, I turned sharply to the door, but my feet lost traction and my legs slipped from beneath me. All I got was a brief glimpse inside the factory floor, where two single shadows danced upon the rough-hewn stone that made up the inner walls. In that split second my hands had failed to grab the railing, and the metal impacted above my left ear, promptly rendering me unconscious.

* * *

 _Voices. Very familiar voices._

… _come on, let's go… there's nothing unusual here…_

… _found no clues thus far… everything appears quite normal… she appeared at the opportune moment…_

… _just an ordinary character… her head will be fine… police will be back soon anyway…_

… _not a coincidence, Geordi. I believe… help us find it… typical of a Holmes story…_

… _but an emerald… doesn't look the type…_

 _Just snippets of conversation on the edges of my consciousness. A throbbing pain on the side of my head. Rustling noises, and then silence._

Heavy eyelids dragged open to a plastered ceiling and a grey arm. A long sleeve sloped downwards towards the side of my face, out of my field of vision. Another man stood with his back to me, wearing a brown coat and bowler hat. Whoever owned the arm must have seen my eyes open, as they shifted so their face was closer to me.

 **Data!** Even in my groggy state I recognised him instantly, and my heart sped up. Topaz yellow eyes, unnaturally pale skin, a serene expression. He was looking down at me curiously, as though he was analysing every micrometre of my face. No doubt he was.

''Greetings.''

My body caught up with my brain, and my jaw dropped. I may have dreamed, wished, fantasised, but I never in a million years thought it would ever come true. I wasn't quite that delusional, though I may as well have been for the impact Star Trek had on my life. And here he was.

''You… you… I…'' it was like my vocal cords were paralysed, and I just couldn't get the words out.

''Yes, I am Sherlock Holmes. Do not attempt to rise: I have not yet staunched your injury. You sustained a high velocity blow to your parietal ridge.''

I closed my eyes, trying to summon some coherent thoughts. **Am I in the Holodeck? Actually on THE _Enterprise_!? Can't he see I'm not an ordinary character? And most importantly… how much do I tell him?**

Finally, I settled for an ambiguous truth. ''I don't belong here.''

Data's companion turned around and walked over. Geordi looked grave, and a touch irritated at waiting for me to come around. Nevertheless, he looked down at me kindly through his VISOR.

''Don't be frightened. We're here to help. If you tell us your name and where you live we can help get you back home.''

''Willow. My name is Willow. And I live…'' What an impossible question! **Should I pretend I'm just a character and let them continue their story? Maybe whatever time-space distortion thingee that brought me here will spit me back out again soon. If I tell them, they'll know there's another world where people think they're nothing but fiction. It would be a huge breach in Starfleet security!**

After weighing up my options, I decided I had no choice but to tell the truth. Maybe it was selfish of me, but I couldn't live the rest of my life in a fake world, in the wrong time. I lived in a relatively rural area, and I've never been a big city fan. They could help me get home.

''This is going to sound crazy…'' I started, looking from one man to the other, ''but I'm not from London at all. In fact, I'm not even from this time. I live in the twenty-first century.''

Data's eyebrows creased, and the two Lieutenant Commanders glanced at each other… or at least, I think Geordi did. They both turned to look back at me, so I tried to assume my best truthful, earnest expression.

''Let me get this straight'' Geordi said, holding up a hand. ''You… are from the future?''

''Well, for _this_ time, yes'' I waved my hand vaguely to indicate our surroundings, ''but for _your_ time I'm from the past. You see… I know who you are.''

Data stands up abruptly. ''Dr Watson, do you think this could be another intelligent Holodeck character?''

''Like Moriarty? It's possible, but he was still a Sherlock character that belonged in this story. If she is truly from another time…''

In full-on officer mode, Data ordered ''Please tell us how you came to be here, and what you know about me and my colleague.''

''Well, for a start you're not Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson. You're Data and Geordi La Forge from the _Enterprise D_. This is the Holodeck – one of them anyway – and you're probably solving a Holmes-style mystery. I've no idea how I got here. I heard a noise in my back garden and went to investigate, hence my attire, and I found… something… that magically brought me here. I don't understand it any better than you do… and probably much less.''

''I do not understand.'' Data was scanning my outfit, his trademark confused look on his face. ''You appear to be wearing clothing that is appropriate for this time.''

''Oh!'' I gasp, having my suspicions confirmed. ''I see – that's why you didn't question me about it! I'm wearing pyjamas, Reebok trainers and my black coat. Do I really look normal to you?''

''This appears to be a small piece of a much larger puzzle. It goes much further than a Holodeck malfunction. If you are telling the truth, then there are evidently distortions in the space-time continuum.''

''But that doesn't explain how she knows about _us_ , Data!'' The chief engineer was agitated and frustrated. ''Starfleet didn't _exist_ in the twenty-first century, and we certainly weren't around. How do we know she's telling the truth? She could've got our names and Holodeck knowledge from a computer glitch, and be just another character that's malfunctioning.''

He was viewing me with such suspicion, and I suddenly couldn't bear it. The Geordi I'd watched thousands of times on screen was so amicable, and rarely got annoyed at people unless they'd done something really careless or wrong. My home and my life had been taken away from me, and now two of the characters I had most loved and admired thought I was either a time-wasting glitch or a fake with a personal vendetta, perhaps even a spy.

I felt around the side of my head, and found that Data had pressed a fabric to my wound. It made me want to be sick: anything to do with blood makes me nauseous. But I took a deep breath, held it there with my hand and struggled to my knees. Gentleman that he is, Data gently took my arms and helped pull me upright.

''Okay, I'll prove it. If I'm truly a simulation, I can't walk out of here, can I?'' Without waiting for an answer, I straightened my spine, put my shoulders back, looked them straight in the eyes (or VISOR) alternately, and said in my authoritative voice:

''Computer, arch!''


	4. Familiar Surroundings

The second-long wait was agonising, as my mind kept going over all the things that could go wrong. I may not be in the Holodeck. The arch may not appear. The two men beside me may not be Data and Geordi, but some kind of trick or trap. I may actually be a simulation, and I'll disappear as soon as I walk out into the corridor. In fact, what if the corridor is different, or not there at all? This could be another _Enterprise_ , or another ship entirely. Maybe it's a parallel universe and absolutely anything could be out there.

When you know Star Trek, you learn to expect the unexpected.

To my relief, the arch did appear out of nowhere on the stone wall to my left. I sighed, and I'm sure my face was delighted. My insatiable taste for adventure was finally being satisfied, and I may well walk out into the one place I've dreamed about more than any other.

At my approach, the doors slid open with that oh-so-familiar and distinctive sound. Outside was a corridor that could've passed for a hallway in any futuristic film: darker duck egg blue walls with black screens, light blue and cream carpet, pale brown sliding doors with a red plaque to indicate where they lead to. But to me, that corridor couldn't have been anywhere else.

A woman in ops yellow walked briskly past, head bent over a padd in her hands. She was muttering to herself; I caught the words ''Beta shift short two crew members… plus Worf wants to reconfigure the alpha shift to accommodate Ensign Robert's maternity leave… I don't know how I keep up with this workload…''

She ran her fingers through her auburn hair, and as she did so she looked up from her padd. Her peripheral vision must have caught sight of me, because she stopped dead in the corridor and faced me with her mouth open. I guess I looked incredibly strange in my pyjamas and coat, especially considering the Holodeck behind me displayed 19th century London with Data and Geordi dressed appropriately for the period… albeit rather extravagantly in Data's case.

Then I remembered: I supposedly _looked_ like I was from that time. Neither of the men behind me could see my real attire, so why was I so surprising to her?

''Ensign'' Data's soft, serious voice said from behind me, ''What do you see in front of you?''

The ensign continued to stare at me. I lowered my gaze and shifted my feet, suddenly embarrassed. ''I… I see a teenage girl wearing an old-fashioned black coat over floral pyjamas, sir. And she's got black and blue trainers on her feet.''

''Sounds like she's telling the truth, Data.'' Geordi's voice.

''Intriguing...''

I turned around to see Data looking at me with even more interest. He had that detached look on his face, the one he gets when he has thousands of scenarios and calculations running through his mind. ''Willow, please step into the corridor.''

The moment of truth. Turning back to the ensign – who had now backed away several paces – I took a couple of deep breaths and walked towards her. Stone turned to carpet, and I stopped right in the middle of the corridor to turn and look back. Several seconds ticked by as everyone waited to see if I would vanish. Eventually I looked down at my feet (still there) and scratched my nose.

''Well, it looks like we've gained a new passenger'' Geordi muttered.

* * *

''Ensign, please inform Lieutenant Worf that there is a potential breach of Starfleet security. Tell him to report to the Brig. That will be all.''

Nodding, the woman scurried away. I turned to Data, surprised. ''The _Brig?_ Oh god, Data. I don't understand any of this any better than you do. I understand why you think I'm a spy, but do I need to go in the _Brig_? I'll answer all your questions.''

Was there sympathy in his eyes? ''I am afraid that you must, Willow. It is standard Starfleet protocol. I will have Doctor Crusher meet us there to attend to your injury.''

I'd forgotten about my head until he mentioned it. ''Ouch!'' I muttered, tentatively probing it with my fingers. Data gently lowered my hand, then shifted his grip to take hold of my upper arm.

We got lots of funny looks walking to the Brig. Some glanced at us through doors and did double-takes, while others simply stopped and stared before flattening themselves against the walls to let the two senior officers and the weirdo girl pass. Reg Barclay's usual mystified expression intensified tenfold, before changing to one of shock and pain when he walked smack into the wall on a bend. I think I must have smiled in fond recognition, because Data gave me a quizzical look. If he had cogs in his head, they would've been spinning at warp ten.

While we walked Geordi contacted Doctor Crusher and Counsellor Troi to ask them to meet us at the Brig. It seemed that Captain Picard and Commander Riker were attending a formal function at Starfleet Headquarters, where we would be rendezvousing with them tomorrow morning. **Does that mean I'll be in the Brig for all that time?**

You don't see the Brig very often on screen, but it couldn't really have been anywhere else. A simple space with door-less cells around the perimeter. Worf was standing, arms folded, in the middle of the room. His usual serious expression wavered slightly as we walked through the automatic doors, possibly to one of surprise. But it was quickly covered by his business-like exterior.

''She is the cause of the security breach?'' he growled.

''That has not yet been determined'' replied Data. Was it my imagination, or did he give Worf a reprimanding look?

In any case, I don't think Worf noticed it. ''You will remove all excess items of clothing, and any pockets will be searched. You will then be placed in a cell for questioning.''

I didn't remember a scenario like this on screen – they appear to skip over lots of the security details when it comes to prisoners. However, I knew well enough not to argue.

''You still see someone from the 19th century, don't you?'' My question was directed at Geordi and Data, who each gave a slight nod.

''Commander?'' Worf's tone was laced with surprise and suspicion.

''It would appear that only Geordi and myself are taken in by a Holodeck illusion, Lieutenant. We were attempting to solve a Holmes mystery when this young woman injured herself, and as we believed she was significant to the story…'' A 'look' passed between the two best friends, and Data hastily amended his speech. ''…As _I_ believed she was significant we staunched the bleeding and questioned her. She is apparently not a Holodeck character at all, but a human from early 21st century England with extensive knowledge of the Enterprise. She does not know how she came to be on the Holodeck.''

Klingon eyes narrowed, and I swear Worf's hand shifted towards his phaser. ''Please remove your coat. Female security officers may supervise you in a separate room if you wish.''

''Nah, I'll be okay.'' I decided to alleviate some of the tension with a little joke; the atmosphere was like treacle. ''My PJ's aren't tight, and they're not too far removed from what civilians seem to wear around here.'' Geordi gave a little chuckle, but I don't think anyone else appreciated my efforts.

Shrugging off my coat, I dropped it to the floor at my feet. A tiny rattling sound issued from the pocket, and Data immediately tilted his head. ''A sound typically made by a small metallic object. What do you have in your pocket?''

It took many seconds of confusion for me to remember, in which Worf had placed his hand on his phaser, strode forwards and crouched down. '' _Oh!_ Yes! It's what brought me here when I put it on, an...'

''Emerald ring'' Worf finished for me, holding it up to the light. The stone sparkled, much larger than any I had ever seen. A soft 'wow…' came from behind me, and I swivelled to see Geordi staring open-mouthed, not at the ring, but at my coat. ''As soon as you picked that ring up Willow's clothing just… _changed_. Do you see it, Data?''

''Affirmative.'' I had the feeling Data had already assessed the coat and moved on to a thousand other things. Always one – million – steps ahead. ''Do you recognise that ring, Geordi?''

VISORed eyes fixed on the object help between Worf's forefinger and thumb, and comprehension dawned. ''Yeah… isn't that the ring in the Holodeck photograph? The stolen one that we were searching for?''

''I believe so.'' The ring was handed over immediately, and examined in the way only Data can. ''The metal is white gold – 14 carats - and weighs approximately five point six seven three ounces. The stone is emerald, six carats, with a classical rectangular cut. There are no abnormal weight distortions, so implanted devices are improbable. There is no 'mark', so the creation date cannot be identified without further study.''

All this was achieved by simply holding the ring in his palm, tilting it ever so slightly and scrutinising it with android vision. Worf looked accusingly at the ring.

''So the ring is unlikely to be a danger to the ship?''

''Precisely. I will retain it for analysis.'' Data turned to me and opened his mouth, but was interrupted by Doctor Crusher and Counsellor Troi bursting in.

''Sorry we took so long'' the former panted, ''Lieutenant Barclay met us in the corridor complaining of a head injury. I told him it wasn't serious and to report to Sickbay if it was causing him pain, but he kept insisting that he could _feel_ his prefrontal lobes shutting down.'' The doctor looked one part irritated and one part amused, as if Barclay was a child insisting that he had found the end of a rainbow.

As soon as she saw my head she knelt on the floor, opened her med kit and assembled something inside. ''Now _that's_ a head injury!'' She stood back up with a hypospray in her hand, that maternal look on her face. ''This is to relieve your pain, and then I'll deal with the wound.''

But she'd only taken a few steps when Worf pushed out an arm to stop her. ''No. We have not finished searching the prisoner. She may be dangerous.''

Cue the other side of Beverly: authoritative, serious and always ready to stick up for those in need. ''This girl requires medical attention. You've got your phaser. Data's here. I'm sure everything will be fine.''

As she and Worf eyeballed each other my mind wandered. **This is just so surreal! I'm actually** _ **on**_ **the _Enterprise_ , and everyone is exactly as I've seen and imagined. I wonder if there's any sides of them we never saw on screen? It's as if I'm looking down at myself in this scenario, rather than truly **_**being**_ **here.**

Worf lost. ''Yes, Doctor. But you, hold your hands away from your body, where I can see them.''

''It's Willow, sir. I'd just like to say what a pleasure it is to meet you.''

It just slipped out before I could stop myself. I immediately bit my tongue and looked anxiously at the Klingon. Sometimes my brain to mouth filter malfunctions, and I find it hard to keep my thoughts inside my head. Perhaps it's because I'm used to talking so much - I just _never_ shut up.

Silences in general disturb me, and this one seemed to hang in the air. I thought I was about to get into serious trouble. But then a little snort of laughter came from Deanna, who had been stood serenely watching the proceedings. Geordi and Beverly joined in, until the three of them were chuckling quietly. A glance at Data showed me the birdlike flicker of him accessing information, and then I was rewarded with that adorable mouth quirk that appears every now and again.

I looked back at Worf. Was that a small smile? His eyes seemed to shine with mirth, before he changed back to that strict professional. It was at that moment that I vowed to make him laugh; Guinan would be pleased!

Deanna finally chipped in with her friendly smile. ''Hello, Willow. It's so refreshing to have someone that doesn't outrank Worf stand up to him.'' Something told me we would continue that conversation another time: she doubtlessly wanted to know exactly what I knew and felt about the crew and my situation.

After I had greeted the counsellor in return the doctor had placed the hypospray on my arm. ''Now don't worry – it doesn't hurt. You'll just feel a slight pinch.''

It was a very strange sensation, like a hiss of cold air and a little squeeze. I was intensely grateful that I was in the 24th century; I really hate needles. The pain evaporated pretty much instantly, and the doctor carefully wiped off a little excess blood before using one of those instruments that looks like a mini laser to erase my wound completely. A dermal regenerator?

I felt the pain relief wear off, and I suddenly felt exhausted. After I stifled a yawn she checked over me with a medical tricorder. ''Willow, what time was it when you were… transported?''

''The middle of the night. Hence the pyjamas.''

''You need rest.'' She turned to Data. ''Questions can wait until tomorrow, can't they?''

Worf made a noise of protest, and Data considered his answer for several seconds. He seemed torn between his ethical subroutines telling him to let me sleep, and his duty to Starfleet to check any potential threats.

''Yes, Doctor'' he finally agreed. ''However, she will be required to spend the night in a cell.''

''No probs'' I said cheerily, and I swear Data winced slightly at the word. ''I'm sure the beds are still infinitely comfortable.''

No doubt he could tell me exactly how much to the nearest thousand decimal places, but he settled for ''Pleasant dreams, Willow.''

''Yeah, I'm sure they'll be interesting after today.'' Geordi and the two women bid me goodnight with smiles ranging from small to dazzling, and Worf gave a nod of acknowledgement after he had checked my empty pockets, ushered me into one of the cells and activated the force field.

Once the lights were dimmed, I lay down and stared at the ceiling. Yes, I was scared, but I was also madly excited and ecstatic to be there… in the Brig or otherwise. I also felt that I had gained, if not friends, then allies. Maybe I had earned a touch of respect, too.

In case you are wondering, the 'bed' was like sleeping on a cloud.

* * *

 _ **Author's Notes:** Sorry this chapter took so long - I had my birthday followed by a monster piece of biology homework that took about 10 hours. Don't you just love school? I should be back on track now. At least the chapters are getting longer, which is something I hope to continue._

 _This was a little trickier to write because it dealt with stuff we don't see on screen - the 'behind-the-scenes' of security. I'm sure prisoners are searched, and those that turn up mysteriously with advanced Enterprise knowledge would be taken to the Brig. This is simply my interpetation. How did I do? Is there anything in particular you really want to see next? Let me know. xxx_


	5. Interrogation

_Eleven hours later_

''So how are you feeling?''

Counsellor Troi's soothing voice washed over me as I sipped a hot chocolate. I was sitting in her office, having made my way there after my interrogation/meeting with most of the senior staff. We had quickly bonded over our love of chocolatey confections, and I had sampled little bits of the best cocoa products the replicators have to offer. Whoever said replicated food isn't delicious obviously never lived in the 21st century.

''Good, I guess. It's strange; I feel like I should be missing my family and friends like mad. And I _do_ miss them, course I do, but… not that much. Is that bad? I'm just a bit overwhelmed at the moment.''

The counsellor laughed. ''You've hit the nail on the head. I'm sure you'll miss them more when you've settled in; you have been issued guest quarters, haven't you?''

''Yes, until they can figure out what to do with me. Data's investigating how I got here… so I should be gone by tomorrow!''

She smiled, but then gave me a sombre look. ''It's very strange, knowing that you already know so much about us all. You say that, in your universe, we're played by actors in a television show?''

''That's right. I have no idea how that's possible… but I guess it just is. Maybe someone here ended up – or will end up – in my universe by accident and tells Gene Roddenberry – the man who 'created' the Star Trek universe as a whole, and the original _Enterprise_ and this one specifically – all about you. I'm trying not to ponder over it too much.''

''As long as it's physically possible, we'll get you home'' Deanna assured me, resting a hand on my arm. ''In the meantime, why don't you enjoy what the ship has to offer? Go to Ten-Forward to meet Guinan; I wouldn't be surprised if she already knows you're here.''

I considered her suggestion, then stood up. ''Thank you, Counsellor. I'll do that.''

''Call me Deanna, please.''

* * *

 _The Meeting_

I had expected to be woken up ridiculously early, perhaps 06:00 hours. In reality it was 08:00 in deference to my late arrival; Doctor Crusher had insisted they let me sleep longer. I made a mental note to thank her later as I rubbed my eyes and an Ensign explained that I had half an hour to eat, change from my own pyjamas to the futuristic everyday ones (my words, not his) and get to the observation lounge.

''You really don't punish your prisoners, do you?'' I commented as I tucked into a mini Full English with a cup of Earl Grey. (I wanted Typhoo, but the replicator didn't stock it. Perhaps I could ask someone?)

The Ensign – tall, male and dressed in ops yellow – gave me a blank look. ''Of course not. You have not yet been proven guilty of any crime.''

Deciding he wasn't in a chatty mood I finished my meal in silence. I changed into the clothes he replicated for me (why couldn't they have been purple? Grey just isn't my colour) then he escorted me to The Meeting. I'd love to say I bounced in there and cheerfully told everyone exactly what had happened, making them laugh and admire me at the same time.

In truth? I crept in on my jelly legs and stood facing the room, clasping my hands in front of me. Everyone had already arrived: the Captain sitting seriously at the head of the table, flanked by a smiling Riker and a slightly confused Data, as if the First Officer had just made a joke he didn't understand. Geordi was sat next to his best friend, facing Data with his back to me. Opposite him Worf had his arms folded and an unamused expression, _exactly_ like the butt of a joke.

I was sorry to see that the women weren't present; they were probably more likely to speak freely in my defence. After all, my story was pretty unbelievable, and I knew that if the captain was not satisfied then admirals would get involved… and if the series is representative of all the admirals then I really don't want to meet one.

The Captain glanced up as I entered the room, and addressed the security guard. ''That will be all, Ensign.'' The order was delivered in his usual low, deadly serious tone, with none of the joviality it sometimes contains. He then turned to me.

''Miss Cooper; is that correct?''

I swallowed heavily. ''Yes, sir.''

''Please sit down'' he replied, with a nod towards the chair at the opposite end of the table. That put me quite a distance away from the crew, and I felt very self-conscious as I gradually lowered myself down. I was significantly shorter than anyone else, and my head didn't touch the lilac head rest.

Geordi raised his eyebrows slightly at the Captain's seating arrangements, but didn't comment.

''You claim to be from the 21st century?''

''Yes sir.''

''You ended up on the Holodeck?''

''Yes sir.''

''You have no idea how you got there?''

''No sir.''

Picard leant back in his seat and tugged down his uniform, and I had to clench my teeth together to stop myself from grinning. ''I suggest you start at the beginning, Miss Cooper.''

''Um… well, I was in bed. Trying to sleep – I have insomnia, you see. And… I heard a crashing noise from outside, well more like a thud…''

I continued in that terrified, bumbling tone as I described how I sneaked out of the house and found the priceless sculpture. ''I… it was exactly like the one you were given, Captain. By your old friend that wanted you to go adventuring with him.''

Picard froze. ''The _artefact_ … it went missing just yesterday! Vanished!''

Riker obviously wasn't thinking along similar lines. ''Now hold on a second; how do _you_ know about that!?''

Data filled in the blanks. ''Commander, Wi… Miss Cooper… has extensive knowledge of the _Enterprise_ and each member of the senior staff. We did not have time to determine how she has gained that information.''

Every head swivelled towards me expectantly.

''I… this is going to sound very weird. I don't know how it's possible either. But in my universe, there's a TV programme called Star Trek. And you're all the main characters.''

Stunned silence. More silence. Riker and Picard shared a look, while the others looked at each other before turning to the senior officers.

''Let me get this straight'' said Riker. **You want me to take off your** _ **head**_ **?** My brain added automatically. I told myself to shut up. **They're bound to use their own phrases, you prat!**

''We're characters played by actors that look exactly like us on a set that's exactly like the _Enterprise_?''

I gave a tiny nod. This was the critical moment. Temporal disturbances? Piece of cake. Alternative universe? Not too uncommon. But that universe containing their _whole_ universe in a television show? Bonkers.

Looking around, I observed that the Captain and his Number One wore expressions of stunned disbelief, and the Security Chief one of suspicion and incredulity. I expected Data and Geordi to look like they were wracking their brains for a conceivable explanation, but only the latter appeared to be doing so. Data had a very odd look; a mix between wonder, confusion and… mild joy?

''We are all played by human actors?'' His golden eyes fixed on mine, asking many more questions than his words.

''Yes, Data.'' I gave him a small smile and a miniature nod, my own eyes radiating happiness as I suddenly realised what that must mean to him. I desperately hoped he would seek me out to ask more.

Worf was less than delighted with the prospect. ''A human playing a _Klingon_? What about his forehead?''

''Lots and lots of stage make up'' I revealed ''it took hours every time.''

Geordi also looked interested. ''What about my VISOR?''

''A prop he wore over his eyes. It blocked most of his vision, so for a while he kept bumping into things because he was half-blind.'' A hearty laugh showed that La Forge appreciated the irony.

Picard held up a hand. ''I'm sure we all have lots of questions, but we need to save them for later. Our priority is to find out how this is possible and aim to get Miss Cooper back home.'' He shot me a sympathetic glance. ''Could you continue?''

I felt more confident and at home now that the atmosphere was less intense. ''I remembered that the sculpture opened, and when I looked inside I saw that the things – were they figurines? – had been taken out, and a small black box was there instead.'' The Captain flinched when I mentioned that the artefact had been tampered with. ''In the box was an emerald ring that Data's got, and my curiosity got the better of me. I slipped it on, and it was like everything around me just _dissolved_ … and I was on the Holodeck.''

''But you didn't know that at the time?''

''No sir. I was scared, but decided the best plan was to look around for some kind of clue. I couldn't find anything, so was considering finding a policeman when I noticed one entering an old warehouse. I ran up the metal stairs to catch him and…'' I was embarrassed, but Data swiftly continued the tale.

''She slipped and fell, Captain, sustaining a head injury. Geordi and myself had been in the Holodeck for three hours, forty-nine minutes and'' – Data cut himself off – ''a considerable length of time without finding any clues in our search for a stolen emerald ring. I believed Miss Cooper's presence to be important in the mystery, so we stayed with her. We quickly realised that she was not an ordinary Holodeck character.''

His brief summary and conscious shortening of time intervals ought to have sparked something in my brain. That's the moment when I should have made the realisation. But I did not, and the Captain sustained the discussion.

''Was that the only occasion you noticed anything unusual in your universe?''

''Actually, no. I heard a strange noise the night before and looked out my window. I saw something strange… I thought it was a transporter effect. But it was dark and gloomy, so I could well be wrong.''

''A _Federation_ transport?'' the Chief Engineer asked.

''Yes, I think so. But as I say, it was hard to see. And that wouldn't make any sense, would it? Temporal anomalies look very different, don't they?''

''Yeah, you're right… but there are lots of different kinds. It's possible.''

The burly Klingon spoke up. ''We have not yet discussed the biggest questions. Temporal anomalies and alternate universes can explain Miss Cooper's presence and Federation knowledge. What cannot be explained is why she appeared as a Holodeck character to Commanders Data and La Forge but to nobody else, how the _very ring_ they were searching for in that mystery ended up in her universe and _why_ that ring brought her here.''

The silence that followed was contemplative rather than stunned. Predictably, after a few seconds everyone turned to look at Data, including me. He looked at the table top, tilting his head slightly and raising his eyebrows.

''I do not know. There is no record of any such occurrence being encountered by a Starfleet vessel. The need for more research is clearly indicated.''

The Captain nodded, pursing his lips slightly. ''Make it so. Mr La Forge, I would like you to assist him.'' He turned to me. ''I see no reason for you to remain in the Brig any longer, Miss Cooper. You will be assigned quarters until a decision is reached.''

I tried to hide my delighted smile… but may well have failed. ''Yes Captain. Thank you.''

My words were followed by a curt ''dismissed'' spoken to the whole room. Everyone rose at once, and headed off in various directions. Riker and Worf to the Bridge, Geordi to Engineering, the Captain to his Ready Room. Data waited for me outside in the corridor.

''Don't you have a shift?'' I enquired. I knew Data worked more hours than anyone else, albeit by his own choice.

''I do not. I had the night shift, so am not due back on duty until eleven hundred hours. May I call you Willow?'' He had that adorable polite/friendly look on his face.

''You already have, haven't you? You don't need to be more formal just because I seem to be staying a little longer.'' I really wanted to add _''May I call you Data?''_ , but hesitated. He was a Lieutenant Commander, after all, and I didn't _actually_ know him.

''You may call me Data, if you wish. I find your story intriguing, and would like to speak with you further… if you are agreeable?'' He changed his inflection on the last four words to make it into a question.

I beamed. ''That would be great! Where should I go now?''

''I recommend you speak with Counsellor Troi while your quarters are being arranged. She may be some comfort to you, and I am sure she will be more than happy to help you 'settle in.''' Data paused. ''May I make a personal inquiry?''

''Sure, go ahead.''

''For somebody who may have lost their home, family and whole life, you do not seem particularly distressed. Is that an accurate observation?''

''Yes, I suppose it is. I guess I'm not… but it's complicated.'' I didn't want to get into it right then in the corridor before I had a chance to properly process. ''Perhaps I can explain another time?''

A courteous nod. ''Of course. I will contact you when I am available, or if my research requires your input.''

I watched Data walk away, before asking the computer for directions to Counsellor Troi's office. It may sound absurd, but the dominant thought circling my mind was **well, at least I don't have to do that Literature essay!**

* * *

 _ **Author's Notes:** Once again apologies for the delay. I had it half finished, but was trying to cram it in my limited time slots and it just didn't feel right. I have found that forcing myself to write when I'm not in 'the zone' doesn't produce good results. As always, thank you for reading and all reviews (however brief, it's just great to know whether I'm on the right track or not) are extremely appreciated. If you think you've worked out what Willow _ really _should have then feel free to PM me to ask if you're correct or not, but it may not have occurred to everybody so I would rather you didn't pop any (potential) spoilers in your reviews! Woody xxx_


	6. Time to Realise

''I wondered when you would arrive.''

Guinan's voice greeted me as I entered Ten-Forward. I had decided to take Deanna's advice, both because I wanted to see the famous lounge and because I wanted to speak to the person that may shed some light on my 'situation'. The room was a hive of activity; the buzz of conversation accompanied by the clinking of glasses at the bar. My mouth dropped in awe while the automatic doors hissed shut behind me, and I almost jumped out of my skin when I noticed the woman in question stood next to me.

''Oh, yes, hi.'' I took a moment to compose myself. ''I'm Willow… though I guess you already know that?''

Guinan tilted her head, her UFO-shaped hat putting part of her face in shadow. ''Yes, I do. And _you_ already know my name is Guinan. I tend bar, and I listen.''

I laughed at the familiar phrase, and Guinan smiled back. Then she held back her arm to indicate the bar, and we made our way over to sit at adjacent bar stools.

''How are you finding the ship?''

''It's great! Exactly as I imagined, though you never get to appreciate the sheer scope of it through a lens.''

''How about the crew? That's what you're _most_ interested in, isn't it?''

Looking into her knowing eyes, I knew nothing but the absolute truth would ever do. ''Well… I guess so. But that's only expected, right? People are always the most fascinating thing. And the crew are particularly… intriguing.''

When the bartender looked ahead of her, she didn't appear to be looking at the colourful bottles. ''Yes, some more so than others. They are the ones we tend to pay the most attention to, and those that develop into personal favourites.'' Did she have a magnifying glass to my soul?

My answer was vague, and anyone that didn't understand the context of our conversation – perhaps even anyone but Guinan – wouldn't comprehend the affirmation I was giving to her insights. ''Of course. Everyone has a favourite, though many share those preferences. I think some are more popular than others because they have multiple things going for them aside from any special abilities, like compassion. Kindness. Goodness of heart.''

Her reply was equally cryptic. ''Some would say that _they_ don't possess those traits.''

''There will always be doubters.'' I automatically became slightly more defensive, as I always do when arguing in support of someone else. Especially for a particular someone. ''However, even if you were to cast any personal beliefs, and faiths, and gut feelings aside and just focus on logical arguments, you would still find plenty of support. Sometimes evidence and observations mean much more than technical schematics.''

My mini rant earnt me an appraising eye. ''You argue well, and you understand people. Those things give you credibility in any century.''

I flushed. ''Yeah, well, I probably won't be here long. Data's working on it, so I'm bound to be home soon.''

''Don't be so sure.'' Those four words made me doubt everything, and remember that anything can happen.

We spent a while in companionable silence, during which Guinan ordered a synthahol drink for me. It was bright lime green, and aptly named ''Welcome to the Galaxy''. The flavour surprised me; sweet but sharp with a hint of fizz, a drink that brings your taste buds alive until they seem to dance around your mouth. There was nothing like it in my time.

''You know, Guinan'' I said, setting down my glass and turning to face her, ''it's not just the main characters that people love. There are those in the background that just seem to bring the series alive, that make you think about the wider universe and what else goes on. People especially love the mysterious, enigmatic characters that you don't understand or know much about.''

I was rewarded with a show of white teeth. She didn't say anything, but I could tell Guinan was gratified to know she was appreciated. ''What's this television show called, anyway?''

I laughed. ''Oh yeah, I never told anyone. It's called Star Trek.''

''An apt name. Simple but effective.''

Silence descended again, and I realised the conversation was probably the longest anyone had ever had with the El-Aurian. She had been pretty open – for her – so I decided to bite the bullet, plunging in with the question I really wanted answering.

''Do you know what brought me here?''

Raised eyebrows. ''Does that matter?''

Confused, I very nearly said ''I do not understand'', but managed to put a contraction in there just in time. ''Isn't that the big mystery?''

''It is _a_ mystery, yes.'' Once again, Guinan looked like she was asking the universe itself for guidance. ''Sometimes in life, it's not about _how_ something happens, but _why_ it happens. Many believe that life has a purpose, and if you too hold that belief then you should be asking the question ''Do you know _why_ I am here?''

Just when I thought me and the bartender were on the same level, I realised we were worlds apart. ''I wish that were true. They say faith is an integral part of life, but I've lost all mine. I've never been religious, but I did have faith in certain things. Like love, or that life would get better. But as I've got older, become a teenager…. that's all gone. What purpose could life possibly have?''

Standing up, Guinan looked at me with a small smile. ''You will find your way, but you must reach that place on your own. Just consider this: perhaps you have already identified the answer to the question.'' With another small head bow Guinan walked off to chat – if she could ever do something so casual – with a group of junior officers sat near the giant window into space.

No sudden realisation came, but I stored the conversation in the back of my mind, sure that every word was vital. Instead, I swivelled on my stool and simply gazed at the flashing rainbow of stars whizzing past the transparent aluminium.

* * *

Not much was going on. Ten-Forward had cleared; I guessed it was changeover time, when those on the night shift made their way to their stations, and others wandered back to their quarters or to the lounge for the evening. I had felt like a prat sat there on my tod, with officers giving me confused glances and whispering about who I might be. An older child of one of the senior staff that had come to visit? An undercover alien spy that really has three green heads, a tail that shoots laser beams and hair that can ignite a warp core with one strand? Perhaps not, considering, but you never know.

Taking advantage of the stillness, I slipped off my stool and out into the corridor. I was thinking of a scene in the very first episode, where Riker is sent to one of the Holodecks to find Data. He asked the computer how to get there and dots appeared on the black screens, directing him to his first meeting with the android.

I had used that service so casually earlier to find the Counsellor's office, not even thinking about it. Almost as if I actually _lived_ here every day. Perhaps that said something about my state of mind, but I chose not to analyse it at that moment. Could I try it to find my quarters? I had no idea what deck guest quarters might be on; all I knew was that the senior staff (except Data) lived on Deck 8.

Unnecessarily addressing the wall, I said loudly ''Um… computer?''

The characteristic bleeping noise told me that the computer had, well, heard.

''Have guest quarters been assigned to Willow Cooper?''

''Affirmative.''

''Could you show me the way, please?'' No harm in being polite.

''Please follow the route indicated. It will lead you to your chosen location.''

 **Sweet** _._ I soon discovered that there were multiple decks for both standard and VIP guest quarters, and that mine were located on Deck 7.

I guess they were pretty basic by 24th century standards, but to me my quarters looked _awesome_. Okay, they weren't the huge multiple-room suites that VIP guests get, but they were airy (recycled air certainly isn't stale), comfortable and had every modern convenience. Who needs a whole kitchen when you have a replicator?

I liked the completely open-plan style of the main room, where I could lie in bed and still be next to the dining table and simple desk. I even had one of the ridiculous boxy computers with the giant on button that Picard has in his Ready Room, though access would likely be limited to entertainment and basic research. They had always made me laugh when I watched the show, because they had anticipated such mind-blowing technology for the future – that we probably wouldn't reach until centuries after they had depicted – yet they had computers that my time would scoff at. No doubt they were superior in many ways, but it seems the two timelines went about technical aesthetics very differently.

Sadly, the walls were painted in the minimalistic, suitable-for-everyone style that seemed to be commonplace around the ship, and I had no window, but couldn't have reasonably expected more. A different captain may well have kept me in the Brig, or confined me to these digs and stopped me talking to anyone lest I corrupted them.

I was still giving my new space a once-over, peeking into the small bathroom at a sonic shower I was desperate to try when the door chimed. I quickly walked towards the door, wondering how to make myself appear relaxed. How do you invite someone into your space when you're completely new to it yourself?

''Uh, come in?'' the statement came out as a question, and I felt both more and less nervous when the doors opened to reveal a golden figure.

''Data!'' I desperately hoped I wasn't grinning at him like a hyena.

''Willow, it is a pleasure to see you. I hope my visit is not an inconvenience?''

''No no, not at all! Come on in. Would you like to sit down?'' I knew full well that he didn't need to, but hoped it would make the atmosphere more casual.

''Thank you. I have some information I must relay to you concerning your… stay here.''

We both sat simultaneously on the grey two-seater sofa, though my slumped back was in stark contrast to his ramrod-straight posture.

''As you are doubtlessly aware, Starfleet security is a top priority aboard starships. It is essential that any potential breaches are reported and… confined.'' Data started his mini speech with his business-like inflection, as though he was reading from a script. But the last word contained something… more. Almost like he was being sympathetic or apologetic for objectifying me as a hazard.

''Let me guess; I have to stay in my quarters?'' It seemed a pretty logical step, and something Starfleet would approve.

''No. The Captain has decided that such a step is unnecessary. However, there are certain areas of the ship that are restricted to you without the permission and accompaniment of a senior officer. You are not to enter the Bridge, Main Engineering, the Science Labs, Cargo Bays or any of the Transporter Rooms.''

I smiled. ''Don't worry, Data, I wouldn't have done so anyway. I'm not Starfleet, and would just have been in the way.''

His brows quirked, and he looked like he wanted to say something reassuring. Apparently he changed his mind, because he moved the conversation on. ''I have studied the emerald ring that took you to the Holodeck.''

''Oh? It was unremarkable, right? No concealments or clues?

''You are correct. Aside from its large size and value, the ring appears to be quite ordinary.'' He paused. ''What made you reach that assumption?''

''I just didn't think it would be that easy. Whatever's going on is something bigger than just a temporal distortion or crossover between alternative universes. I just have a _feeling_ that I was sent here, for whatever reason. The fact that your universe is portrayed within mine as something make-believe can't just be a coincidence.''

''I concur. It is certainly something that has never been experienced before. May I ask more about the way the Enterprise and crew is described?''

''Sure. The show was created by a man called Gene Roddenberry. It shows his ideas for a future where equality is gained: no racism, sexism, homophobia or class divides. All Earth starvation, diseases and wars have been stopped, and this has been spread to lots of other planets that have joined together in a great Federation. So far, everything seems to be the same here.''

''You describe the show as if it focuses more on social aspects of the future rather than the science. Was that typical of other 'science-fiction' in your universe?''

''Some others had aspects of it, but not nearly as much. It's about broadening your mind and covers a lot of the issues we face today… er, in _my_ time. Somebody once said that Star Trek is psychology, sociology and philosophy disguised as science fiction. I wouldn't go that far: there's lots of action and adventure and awesome technology, it's just that there's more to it than explosions and space battles.''

I realised that I had unconsciously sat up straighter and lifted my chin during my explanation. I was _proud_ to watch Star Trek.

Data looked intrigued. '' _Star Trek?_ Is that the name of the television series?''

I laughed. ''Ah, yes, I only told Guinan. That's the name. Apt, isn't it?''

''I am inclined to agree. How long did this show 'air'?''

''Well, there were seven seasons over seven years, follow by four films. Each season spanned an actual year in your time, while the movies…'' I trailed off, a dawning shock evident on my features.

''Willow?'' Data had leant slightly forward, and his eyes were fixed intently on mine. ''Is something wrong?''

''I… yes, I suppose so. What's been happening around now? Any big events?''

''The legendary Kahless allegedly came back to life, and subsequently tried to take over the Klingon empire. Why do you ask?''

I was struggling to say it, bowled over by the obvious thing I should've considered immediately. ''Time, Data! What I have seen covers 2364 to 2370 in detail, and then the four films are spread out between 2371 and 2379. Right now we're near the end of 2369, correct?''

''Yes.'' Usually the definition of calm, there was an urgency and severe concentration in the way Data asked his next question, as if he was focusing more of his processing power. ''Are you saying that you know what will happen in the future?''

I swallowed, and half-whispered a still-dazed 'yeah'.

My guest sprang up, then turned to me. ''Please stand up. We must inform the captain immediately.''

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** _I am sorry (again) for the delay in posting. I know how annoying it is! I had the first half (with Guinan) written before Easter, but then became very busy and couldn't finish the rest. I also had to spend a little while thinking about where the story is going in more detail, as this is the start of a turning point. Willow is going to have some tough choices to make._

 _The Kahless episode referenced is Rightful Heir, season 6 episode 23. From now on the story will follow canon, though not closely enough to be a close-canon AU. Thank you to everyone who is reading my story, particularly those that review. It is greatly appreciated. I'm also pleasantly surprised at the number of people that have favourited this story - thank you. I'll try to be quicker next time! Woody xxx_


	7. Future Discussions

It was only a matter of minutes before I was one again seated opposite the Captain. We had left my quarters at a brisk walk – for me, anyway – while Data tapped his combadge. ''Captain, Miss Cooper has given me additional information that I feel must be discussed immediately. May I suggest an urgent meeting?''

There was only a slight pause before Captain Picard answered. ''Very well, Mr Data. Bring Miss Cooper to my Ready Room; the Senior Staff can be notified later if necessary.''

''Aye, sir.'' Data closed the channel before looking down at me. He seemed to consider saying something – reassuring? A question? – before merely nodding towards a turbolift up ahead. ''This way.''

Neither of us spoke again until we were inside the Ready Room. We walked briefly through the Bridge to enter, and many of the officers at work gave us curious glances. I desperately wanted to stop and stare with my jaw on the floor, but I knew I couldn't. Instead I scanned every corner and console as quickly as possible before facing the Ready Room door, which swished open.

''Captain.'' Data nodded respectfully while walking calmly towards the desk where Picard sat. His commanding officer had a padd in his left hand, while his right rested against his chin, the index finger laid across his lips. The characteristic pose was broken when Picard dropped his padd to the desktop and sat up straighter.

''Sit down, both of you.'' We complied.

''Now, what is this vital information?'' Picard's eyes flickered between the two of us. I turned to Data, unsure if I should answer or let him explain. Luckily, Data went first.

''Miss Cooper was providing me with details about her universe's interpretation of our own, when it occurred to her to ask what has been happening on the ship.''

The Captain looked confused. ''What's been _happening?_ Why would that be important?''

''Using that information, Miss Cooper was able to deduce what year it is, Captain. Her knowledge of the episodes that represent our missions is extensive, and she correctly identified that we are in late 2369. The television show and subsequent feature films continue ten years into the future.''

Picard paused. He turned to look at me, his face a mask of gravity. ''You are aware of what will happen aboard the Enterprise?''

I swallowed. ''Yes sir.'' I met his level gaze, keeping my own face straight.

''And what will happen within the Federation, even the galaxy, as a whole?''

''To a certain extent, sir. Bits and pieces, some trivial, some important. There's one more season about the Enterprise, but there are… other shows. Following other people. In particular, there are seven seasons of two other series. But… I can't really tell you the names. It would give things away, and I can't do that, can I?''

Picard leant back in his chair. Silence fell as he took a deep breath in before exhaling. ''No.'' His voice was low and grave. ''I didn't want to do this until absolutely necessary'' he continued, swivelling to me again, ''but I must. When you were found in the Holodeck and told the story of how you came to be there, I recorded a summary in my log. I decided to treat it as I would any other incident, which allowed me to simply record it rather than having to inform Starfleet Command immediately. Technically, as the event indicated a potential Federation-wide security breach, I should have treated it as a major incident and sent a sub-space message.''

The Captain was looking directly at me during his explanation, but his eyes flickered to Data's at that point. I knew and he knew that Data was well aware of established protocol, and doubtlessly knew that Picard had not followed it. I wasn't sure whether to expect a detailed quote of the rules a la season one, a smooth reminder from the middle seasons or just an awesome eyebrow quirk from later on.

He stuck to canon perfectly and gave the latter, and I had to try so hard not to smirk. I didn't succeed, and had to cover up by turning it into a grimace when Picard looked at me. It may have fooled him, but my cheeks burned with the realisation that Data had almost certainly seen. I desperately wanted to turn and see his reaction, but made myself stare dead ahead. **What if he's taken it the wrong way, and thought I was laughing at him?**

Picard efficiently continued. ''I did not do so'' he said, ''because I knew your case would be treated as though you were a suspect. The interrogations would be thorough and severe, and they would likely ask you questions you do not have the answers to. Considering you are in a completely new environment, away from everything and everyone you have ever known, I did not feel those actions would be… appropriate.''

''Oh.'' It was an inadequate response for the thoughts swirling around my head. The new information confirmed two things for me: Starfleet Command could be very harsh and rigorous, just like any other organisation that safeguards lives, and Captain Picard has a definite compassionate side. Not only has he accepted my story and treated me like a guest rather than a prisoner, he's also tried to shield me from a potentially distressing situation.

''But that's changed now?'' I'd already guessed what he was going to say.

''Yes. Now that there are temporal aspects to the situation I have no choice but to report it. Starfleet has been tightening up its defences to possible time-related issues that may threaten the Federation.''

''So, Temporal Investigations may be banging down the door of my quarters?'' I was thinking of a Deep Space Nine episode where Captain Sisko was visited (with little choice in the matter) by two severe men in sharp grey suits. They questioned him extensively about a recent mission that involved going back to the time of the original Enterprise, specifically when the Tribbles took over the ship. They were extremely grumpy, especially when people made time jokes… though they also made them themselves. I definitely didn't want to meet them, because I would certainly rub them the wrong way.

''You are aware of the Temporal Investigations section?'' Data sounded surprised. ''They have not yet… visited… the _Enterprise_.''

''And they won't'' I reassured him, then clapped by hands over my mouth. ''Oops, spoiler alert. Sorry.''

''Spoiler alert'' Data said, his eyes flickering back and forth. He didn't say accessing, and his search took less time than it would have done earlier in his life. ''A late 20th and early 21st century term used as a warning when a detail of the plot development of a feature film, book or television show is about to be revealed.'' He looked at me and said in a slightly teasing tone, ''it appears your warning was a 'bit late'''.

I burst out laughing, tipping my head back and closing my eyes. My hand reached out to touch his arm like I'd do with any friend that made a funny joke, and I only realised what I'd done when my fingers brushed his uniform sleeve. I gasped and sat up, retracting my arm as if the fabric was made of burning coals. Both men were staring at me.

''I'm really sorry, D… sir.'' I was too mortified to call him Data. ''It's kind of automatic.''

''I do not understand why my attempt at humour was so comical.'' Picard looked equally confused, but also _amused_.

''Weelll...'' I said, blushing, ''on the show, you're one of the favourite characters. People love you. They like you for who and what you are, but also really enjoy watching you change, grow and _evolve_ through the years. That was just the perfect example of you at this point in time, and the consistency made me laugh.''

Data spent a while – for him, anyway – analysing that latest information. I looked at his mouth surreptitiously, and was gratified to see a little lift at the corners. I had never got bored of seeing that on screen. **Would that be the case now?**

The Captain cleared his throat. ''I'm sure you will have many discussions, but now is not the time. I am not sure what action Starfleet will take, but there is a distinct possibility I will be asked to bring you to Earth to be questioned when our latest mission is complete.''

I bit my lip. I desperately wanted to ask '' _What mission? Where are we going?_ '' but knew it probably wasn't allowed. I wasn't an officer, and in some ways, I wasn't even a civilian.

Picard didn't miss it. ''Miss Cooper'' he said in a warmer tone, ''I would love to ask you. But you know I can't.''

''Can I at least know what planet we're going to? I won't tell you anything, and I'll be in my quarters most of the time anyway.''

He considered. ''Do I have your word?''

''Yes. Girl Guides honour and all that.''

Picard looked puzzled, and Data opened his mouth. ''The Guiding movement was…''

''Later, Data.'' The android's mouth shut with a snap. Well, not really.

''Very well. We are heading to Nervala IV.'' His eyes scrutinised my face for a reaction. It was obvious he really wanted to know.

''Nervala, Nervala…'' I muttered. ''I definitely know the name, but I can't remember for the life of me what episode it was. Could you tell me _why_ we're going there?''

His strict look was his only answer.

''Okay, no clues. I get it.'' I even mimed zipping my lips, before my brain caught up and decided it was way too cheeky. **Remember that you don't really know any of them. You're not friends.**

I think I got the look reserved for insolent Ensigns. Luckily, he let it slide.

''Now, Commander Data and I should return to our duties. Commander, you gave Miss Cooper her restriction rules?''

''Yes sir.''

''Thank you.'' He turned to me. ''Now, how would you like to spend your time?''

''Sir? I just assumed I should hang around in my quarters or Ten-Forward?''

''You may do so. However, if you become bored, there are doubtlessly other things you could do that are more constructive. Helping Guinan behind the bar, for example. Assisting in the Arboretum or the classrooms.''

I grinned. ''Do I have an entertainment system in my quarters?''

''Yes.''

''Then I won't get bored for _weeks_. I'm an expert at doing nothing, _and_ I've got 300 years' worth of books and films… though television died out around the 2040's, didn't it?''

''Indeed.'' This came from Data, with a look of admiration. ''As far as I am aware, the only crewmember who has stated that fact is myself.''

''Yes, it was. When you found all those people in cryogenic stasis and one of them thought the replicator was a television.'' I smiled at the memory, because it was very likely something that I would have said... if I hadn't watched Trek.

Raised eyebrows. ''That is correct. Do you have an advanced memory?''

I huffed. ''No way. My memory is awful usually. It's the non-useful stuff – like Star Trek facts – that I remember. If I'm revising for an exam, on the other hand…''

I trailed off when the Captain pulled an incredulous face. ''Ah, yeah, _you_ don't know either. I may as well tell everyone at once, mightn't I?'' While Guinan and Data had looked amused (very subtly for the latter), Picard looked affronted.

''Is that really the name? We are _not_ on some casual stroll through the cosmos! This is life and death and exploration!''

''It's iconic'' I muttered. I knew there was no point trying to convince him it was a good name.

The Captain stood, so Data did immediately and I followed suit. ''Data, Commander La Forge would like you to go to Engineering. Miss Cooper, you may go.''

So much for being liked. That certainly ended on a sour note.

Data and I stepped out onto the Bridge and walked into the turbolift. As soon as the doors closed behind us, I said the first thing that came into my head.

''Oops.''

* * *

 _Data is in my quarters. We're sat on the grey sofa, both drinking from glasses of Fanta. He had decided to drink during our conversation to be polite, and I couldn't help but stare at his lips as they pouted around the glass rim and sipped the bubbling liquid._

 _We had spent the last half an hour talking about the ship, other crew members and ourselves. He seemed fascinated (for him) in everything I said, asking lots of questions about me and my life. He appeared completely at ease in my quarters. It was an ease he only displayed around Geordi, and he never had around Jenna._

'' _Willow'' he said, his voice smooth and warm. ''In the Captain's Ready Room, you stated that I was one of the 'favourite' characters, and that people loved me. May I ask why?''_

'' _Because you're so awesome!'' I blurted. ''Your kindness, you compassion, your intellect, your strength, your good looks, your amazing quirks… everything.''_

'' _Good looks?'' Data queried, surprised. ''Do you find me… attractive?''_

 _I paused. This was it, the bottom line. Time to be honest. ''Yes, Data.'' My voice was low and breathy. ''I do.''_

 _A few seconds passed while he processed that information. He seemed to be trying to work out how to respond._ Please, please, please…

'' _Thank you, Willow.'' His voice was also different, with a slight waver. ''Few people have ever displayed an 'interest' in me._

'' _I know. I've never understood why. The only reason I could come up with is that people are just too scared to approach you, because you're so wonderful. Everyone probably feels inadequate.''_

'' _No.'' His tone was flat. ''I am the one that is inadequate. That is why my relationship with Jenna did not last long. I was unable to be what she needed.''_

''NO! _'' I half shouted. ''No, that's not true. She just wasn't the right one for you. You didn't fit together because she didn't_ get _you. But one day you_ will _meet that right person. I'm sure of it.''_

 _Data had been looking directly into my eyes, the golden colour making me melt. They scorched me like the sun. ''Perhaps I should approach somebody'' he mused. ''Make an attempt to try again.'' He shifted on the settee, moving a touch closer to me. ''You understand me, Willow.''_

 _I swallowed. ''Not really. I don't_ actually _know you.''_

'' _But you do. The person you have seen 'on screen' is certainly identical to, if not incredibly similar to, myself. In many ways, you know me as well as the rest of the senior staff do.'' Somebody that had spent hours watching his face would know he was nervous, as far as his nerves go. ''Would you like to spend more time with me, Willow?''_

 _I swallowed again, then bit my lip. ''I want that more than anything.''_

 _It seemed that we moved together almost without conscious thought, though that was only really true for myself. In only seconds our legs were just inches away, and both our bodies were leant forward. Data lifted his left hand, and his long, elegant fingers tilted my chin. We both moved our heads forward, my panting lips coming closer to his own, which were parted slightly. I felt his warm breath on my cheek. In a moment, our lips would be touching…_

I set up in bed, my heart pounding. After several seconds in the dark, I gasped ''Computer, lights!''

They came on at full blast, assaulting my retinas. My eyes squeezed shut. ''Ouch! Computer, lights at half lux!''

They dimmed, and I slowly opened my eyes again. It was around four-hundred hours, and I'd been dreaming about something that never happened.

 **And it never will!** I told myself firmly as I slipped out of bed to get a glass of water. **You know it won't.**

My head knew it, but my heart was still stuck in the dream. My brain tried to reason with my emotions.

 **You know he would never be that forward. You know he would have no interest in you. You know you might not be here for long. And most importantly, you know that he's…**

 **Stop it, stop it, stop it!** I screamed at myself. ''Don't think about that, don't think about that…'' I muttered aloud. But I couldn't just banish the thought.

That was the main reason it would never happen. Even if, by some miracle, he _did_ want to date me, I could never say yes.

Because I knew he was going to die.

And after all the pain it's already been through, my fragile heart couldn't take it.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** _First of all, apologies for the long wait for this chapter! I can sum the reasons up in one word: exams. Luckily, I've now done quite a lot of them, so the next wait shouldn't be nearly as long. Thanks for not losing hope! Always remember that I'm NOT going to ever just abandon this story. I have every intention of finishing it, and if it turns out that I can't I'll say so on my profile. I'll also start posting updates on there so you know I am working on it if there's another long gap. Feel free to message me to ask where the hell I am to give me a kick up the backside!_

 _Nervala IV is where the next episode takes place, if you're following which that is. Note that this isn't going to be close-canon, because I'm not following the exact dates of the episodes. There are gaps between each one that won't be here in this story, mainly because I need to keep things moving._

 _I know this chapter was very conversation-y, but the next one will be a bit more action-based. Thanks everyone that reviewed the last chapter._

 _Woody xxx_


	8. Grounded I

The next morning, I was cool, calm and collected. I followed my usual wakeup routine, albeit a futuristic version.

At eight o'clock I'd given up on sleep, slipping out of bed to get orange juice from the replicator. Unusually hungry, I had then ordered scrambled eggs, bacon, sausages, hash browns and beans. There didn't seem to be a 'small portion' option; either that or I just didn't know how to ask properly. Deciding it made no difference anyway (leftovers are recycled, after all), I just ate what I could before putting the rest back and going to the toilet.

In my pre-Trek life (as I soon began to call it in my head) I had often wondered what using the bathroom would be like on the Enterprise. Sonic showers were never really described, except a line from B'Elanna on _Voyager_ that said something about 'sonic pulse vibrations'. After looking them up, I'd found quite a bit of detail on _Memory Alpha_ , but nobody knew what it was really _like._

Trying to describe using one to somebody who never has is pretty much impossible, because it's unlike anything else. The thing I can best equate it to is using a sauna: a big billow of steam that floats around you and seems to hone in on your skin, almost like it's alive. Every cell feels like it's _instantly_ clean, though there's no scrubbing sensation. Instead, it's like the dirt just dissolves off your body with no trouble at all. Fast and soothing… something I could _really_ get used to.

As for the toilet itself… the changes aren't so exciting. The bowl isn't washed with water – it looks similar to the sonic shower steam in an airstream – but the shape is exactly the same, and the toilet paper is basically a softer version.

Nobody had given me any rules when it came to clothing, so I used the replicator again to get something closer to my usual style. Fashion was never my forte, but the prison outfit had to go. Instead, I managed to make a pair of jeans, a floaty white top and comfortable underwear, worn with my Reebok trainers. They were my favourites back home, and were now the only thing I had from my old life. My pyjamas and coat hadn't yet been returned to me.

By half nine I was ready to begin my day, whatever that might entail. If you looked closely, you would see the darker shadows under my eyes that showed my insomnia had returned from its hiatus, but my smile was firmly plastered in place for when it was needed. So what if it didn't reach my eyes?

As I said: cool, calm and collected.

* * *

The day turned out to be exciting, informative and eventful, rather than the lounging around in front of the entertainment system I had imagined. Captain Picard had submitted his report to Starfleet, and wanted to know how I had arrived there before admirals made things complicated.

That meant a full examination by Dr Crusher to begin with. At the time, I didn't have a combadge, but the communication system apparently allowed people to open a channel to a specific room as well as to people. Beverley's disembodied voice echoed around my quarters just as I was booting up the computer on the small desk, hoping to get the low-down on 24th century changes the show may never have revealed.

''Doctor Crusher to Willow Cooper?''

Automatically reaching for a badge that wasn't there, my brain momentarily froze over before it realised that I could just talk to the air. ''Um, yes Doctor?''

Her tone was warm and friendly, and I could see her kind, lipstick-coated smile in my mind. ''Don't worry, it's nothing serious. I just need you to come down to Sickbay for some medical scans.''

''Yes, sure. I mean, of course, Doctor. On my way.'' Making a mental note to be less flippant and more formal, I set off for Sickbay.

I got quite a few curious glances on my way there. Not as many as I had last time, when wearing a coat over pyjamas and being escorted by two senior officers, but a few nonetheless. Jeans obviously merit that much.

Stepping into Sickbay, I hovered around the door while looking around for the Doctor. The space had few patients in it, and none appeared to have serious injuries, but it was still a hive of activity. Doctors and nurses bustled up and down with tricorders and other medical equipment, and others treated the few officers on the bio-beds. I spotted Doctor Selar kneeling over Barclay's feet, who had apparently stubbed his toe. The image made me smile, especially as this was the second time I had seen him, and both times he had hurt himself. Even Selar, as a Vulcan, looked slightly exasperated.

''There you are!'' The voice came from the redheaded CMO, who I hadn't noticed walk up to me. ''How are you feeling?''

''Oh, I'm okay, Doctor. How are you?''

She smiled. ''Fine, thank you. Just this way, Miss Cooper.'' Crusher began to walk towards a bio-bed, and I followed.

''Please, call me Willow. I'm no 'miss', especially not around here.''

A sculptured eyebrow was raised. ''Okay then, Willow. You didn't do anything wrong, you know.''

''Yeah, but I still don't exactly fit in or command respect.''

''Give it time. You certainly seem witty; I haven't seen anybody put down Worf in years.''

Jumping onto a grey bio-bed, I grinned cheekily. ''That's just my sassy nature.''

Conversation halted whilst Beverley scanned me using one of those small, cylindrical metal things. ''Well, you're definitely human.''

''Good to know.''

''All your vital signs are stable, cognitive activity appears normal, no viral or bacterial infections that I can detect. It seems you've joined us in perfect health.''

''I like to be considerate.''

''But… wait a minute. Your brain isn't processing as fast as it should be. Areas that control concentration and memory aren't working efficiently, and those that control emotions are showing a chemical imbalance. That could easily be put down to what's happened to you in the last few days, but… is there something else going on?''

Her eyes flickered to the shadows under my own. _Damn._

I looked at the floor, swinging my feet. Then I looked up into her face, and there was maternal compassion written all over it. I had nothing to lose by telling her. ''I have insomnia.''

Doctor Crusher sat down next to me, her voice soft when she spoke. ''For how long?''

''Over two years.''

She looked shocked. ''Were you on any medication?''

I shook my head. ''I've tried some natural remedies, but none of them have worked. They don't really prescribe sleeping pills to under 18's, because of their addictive nature.''

The Doctor's expression is hard to describe. An incredulous laugh, a dumfounded sigh from a smiling mouth. Just like when she was trapped inside a warp bubble and crew kept disappearing, when Picard told her that the two of them ran this giant ship all alone.

''But surely, if someone hasn't slept well for that length of time…''

''You'd think so, but apparently not. I was going to go back to my GP when I turned eighteen, which is in…'' I trailed off, thinking back. ''So, I've been here for… two nights. But my first day – my time in the Holodeck and when I arrived - basically _was_ night, according to my body clock. So, I've only been here for one full day and this is the morning of my second day. I left on the 18th of June, so for me today is the 20th. My birthday is on the 7th of July, so that's…. that's….''

''Eighteen days'' Beverley provided helpfully.

''Yes, you're right. It feels like I've been here much longer than that.''

''I can imagine. Nowadays sleeping pills can be given to teenagers, because they're now much less addictive. Besides, it's the time of your life you're most likely to need them, and the damage little sleep does to your body outweighs any risks.''

''So, you're offering them to me?''

''Yes. You don't have to take them. I'm afraid we haven't developed a miracle drug that instantly knocks you out yet, but they should be useful.''

''Aw, really? You've had more than 300 years, you know!''

I had judged from her earlier comments that the Doctor was up for a joke, and luckily for me I was right. ''I'll tell Starfleet Medical we've been slacking, and to get on it right away.''

''Please do'' I said in a posh, snooty voice. ''In the meantime, I'll take some of these mediocre things you're offering me.''

''Right you are.'' She went into some kind of back room, and about a minute later returned with seven lilac tablets. ''Just take one of these about an hour before you go to sleep'' she said, tipping them into my palm.

''Yay, purple! My favourite colour.''

Another raised eyebrow. ''Come back when – or if – you run out. Now, I need to do some deeper scans to check for residual traces, anything that might give us an idea of how you got here. I'll report anything to Commander Data, as he's in charge of getting you home.''

I lay down on the bed, as she indicated with her hands. ''When am I next going to see him?'' I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

''Hopefully today. He's on the away mission now, but if all goes well he should be finished in time.''

''I wish I knew what that mission was.''

Doctor Crusher began her deep scans, using the large screens to show the data and scanning me all over with various equipment. ''I'm sure you do. It must be torture for you, knowing what's going to happen.''

''It's… hard. Though it's almost worse that I don't know everything – I haven't memorised every episode and when that episode falls, I just know them all roughly and others in detail. Like, I _know_ the name Nervala IV, I just can't remember what _happens_.''

''You'll no doubt get a clue soon.''

''What makes you say that?''

''Well, it can't exactly be a routine mission, can it? Otherwise they wouldn't make an episode out of it. The show can't cover every single day.''

''That's true. _Something's_ going to happen. Hopefully nothing bad.''

All Beverley could do was nod seriously, no doubt thinking of all the tragedies she has witnessed. Conversation ceased until the scans had finished, which felt like it took about an hour.

''There you go'' she finally said, snapping the tricorder in her hand shut. ''You're done.''

''Find anything?''

She frowned. ''Nothing but small samples of air particles consistent with that time period on Earth. I expected to find something that hinted at the type of transport – just like the traces you get after using a transporter – but there's nothing. It's like you just _appeared._ ''

I sighed. ''Looks like this mystery really _isn't_ going to be solved quickly. What do I do now?''

''Make your way back to your quarters, and wait for Commander Data to contact you.''

I jumped down. ''Thank you, Doctor.''

Her next question took me by surprise. ''Do you call Deanna 'Counsellor?'''

''Well, no. She asked me to call her Deanna. And Data asked me to call him Data.''

''He _did?_ '' She was momentarily surprised. I had expected her to reply with 'well, don't call me Doctor, then', but the news that Data didn't want to be called 'sir' seemed to rock her. After a beat, she said ''Just call me Beverley''.

''Thank you, Beverley.''

''Good. Now get out of here!'' she jested, laughing.

I complied.

* * *

My little 'clue' came much sooner than I expected, and it wasn't so small.

On my way back to my quarters, my mind began to drift. **I've now had proper conversations with Data, Deanna, Beverley, Picard and Guinan. I wonder when I'll get to chat to Geordi, and Riker. And Worf, for that matter…**

I met Riker almost immediately afterwards, as I collided with him as I turned a corner. Stumbling backwards, my hands reached for the wall to steady myself, but the thing that stopped me falling was Riker's arm grabbing my wrist. He held on until I was back on my own two feet, and I looked up at him – way up – with a grin to say thank you. He had that irresistible smile, framed by _that_ beard that only Riker has.

Except it wasn't Riker.

The yellow uniform kind of gave it away.

''My, _you_ don't look like one of the crew.'' The flirtatious grin was the same, but his eyes were just that bit wilder than William's.

My mind was making lots of connections, but I managed to answer his question. ''No, I'm not. It's a long story.''

''I'd love to hear it sometime, but I'm a little busy right now.'' He indicated the people behind him, the ones I hadn't even noticed yet.

''Hello, Commanders'' I said to Data and the real Riker. ''Sorry about this. I'll get going.''

I began to scurry off, before remembering I never thanked my wrist-holder. ''Oh, and thank you for catching me… sir.''

''It was a pleasure.''

The party began to move off, but Data turned back to call me.

''Willow? I may not be able to discuss anything with you today. There are some… complications… that need to be resolved.''

I looked over his shoulder at the two Rikers, who were markedly maintaining a firm distance and looking straight ahead rather than at each other. ''Yes, I can see. Complications. Don't worry about it, I'll still be here.''

Data gave an affirming nod, before turning and catching up to Riker's one and two in only a few strides without appearing to walk quickly. I turned as well, heading back to my quarters.

 **Well hello, Thomas Riker** I thought. **Welcome to** _ **Second Chances**_.

* * *

Sadly, it wasn't a mission that really affected your average Joe on the ship. I knew the bridge crew would be doing their thing: working out how Riker was duplicated, pushing on with the equipment collection, having an identity crisis.

I remembered the episode vividly because it made me think; would I like myself if I met me? Something tells me I wouldn't: I always try to be nice and kind and considerate, but I know that I can be annoying, loud, opinionated, obnoxious, emotional, defensive, cutting, judgemental and _much_ too snarky. My defence of my principles and values can tread on some toes, and I can debate with the best of them. If I'm in charge of a group then everything is fine, and will run smoothly with different opinions listened to. But if someone else is in charge and I think they're doing the wrong thing, I can get seriously annoyed.

As you can tell, my high self-esteem is a strength of mine.

As nothing exciting was going on, I booted up the computer in my quarters and soon discovered that they _were_ more advanced than they appeared. It was a touchscreen, just like all the consoles, and you could use voice commands for pretty much everything. But how to search?

 **Do they still have search engines? It's worth a shot.** ''Okay, open Google.''

It _opened!_ The logo had changed, but the colours of the letters were the same, as was the search box. I chose to use the touch screen to enter 'major events in the last 300 years', and I found a page with a giant timeline.

 **Just what I wanted.** Scrolling down, I found many events mentioned on the TV: the Irish Reunification of 2024, the Eugenics War, the first warp flight and first contact with the Vulcans. But it didn't take me long to realise that some things were wrong. Apparently, we first got a shuttle to Mars in 2005, and in 2014 the first man (though it was actually a woman) set foot on the Red Planet. Politically, all the names and parties were wrong, with very little consistency between this list and the one I knew. Deciding to do a thorough job, I spent hours researching other areas, such as films, sports and musical acts. The inconsistencies were still there.

It confirmed the theory that this was an alternative universe, rather than just the future. Everything from late 2017 onwards on the timeline may well happen, but I knew other things _hadn't_ happened. The inconsistencies seemed to begin around the dawn of the 21st century, when most of Star Trek had finished. Was that just a coincidence?

Time had flown, and only the rumbling of my stomach brought me back to Earth… or the ship. I ordered tomato pasta from the replicator, along with a knife and fork, and ate at the small dining table.

''Computer, what time is it?'' I asked when everything was cleared away.

The cool voice I had always thought was Majel Barrett said ''18:12'', so I chose to watch a film to pass the time. My quarters had no television, so I fiddled around with the computer options until I found a film index. **But what to watch? Should I pick something from my near future** **to see what they might be like, or go full on 24** **th** **century?** Eventually, I elected to watch something that had already been released to begin with, and found a movie I'd always wanted to see: Kill Bill. It looked so bad that it might actually be good, and I figured it must be okay because even I knew the name. If I've heard of a film, it must be famous.

The screen was small, but I fixed that by dragging the desk over to the foot of my bed. Then I replicated some sweet popcorn, dimmed the lights, made myself comfortable against my pillow and said ''computer, play from the start.'' Why use the button when I had the chance to revel in voice commands?

I was just getting to the best bit when the door annunciator bleeped, telling me that somebody wanted to enter.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** _Hello again! If you looked at my page you would have seen why this update has taken a while. Everything just seemed to come at once! Luckily it's the summer holidays now (yay!) so I have more time to write from now on. I keep saying that, don't I? I've decided to split what I thought would be one chapter into two parts, because it was looking to be really long. I know not much happens in this part, besides a certain revelation, but the second is more interesting. I'll give you a little spoiler: it contains some Geordi POV!_

 _Yes, we're at_ Second Chances _(S6E24). As I've mentioned before, the gaps between episodes are much shorter in this story than they are in canon. She'll be more involved in some than in others. If anybody has any ideas for a particular episode you're very welcome to mention them, as I may just put them in! You'll be credited in these notes._ Kill Bill _is a film I saw recently, and is exactly as Willow described: so, so cringy that it's actually quite funny and interesting. Definitely the strangest film I've ever seen. Thank you to everybody for reading and reviewing. Woody xxx_


	9. Grounded II

_**Geordi**_

As I walked down the ship's corridors, I thought about the person I was going to visit. Willow Cooper had appeared on the Enterprise so suddenly, and had only been there for a short length of time, but her presence had already made a big difference on the ship.

I don't think it was _just_ because of the mystery of her arrival, and the way it defied all we knew about time travel and alternative universes. I also don't think it was because of what she has told us: that we're all fictional characters in a television show in her reality.

It's difficult to say for sure, but I think it's the way she had _acted_ during her time here. Rather than freak out at finding herself in a world she'd thought was fantasy, Willow had accepted and embraced it without any doubts or suspicions. Maybe that was a testament to the crew, and how they had accepted her in turn, and _that_ was what caused the shift in mood. The world we lived in was a place she was happy to be in, at least for the time being.

Most people, when abruptly taken away from their family, home and literally their world, would have broken down and cried. I'd expected to see that by now, and was surprised that she still hadn't. _Perhaps she's been crying today_ , I thought. _Her doors will open to show a darkened room hiding red, puffy eyes from tears._

Shaking off the thoughts, I had pressed the annunciator outside her quarters. About five seconds later, I heard Willow shout 'come in!', and I walked into a darkened room.

My first thought was _'Oh no!'_ , but I quickly realised that Willow had been doing anything _but_ crying.

''Hello commander!'' she said cheerily, swinging her legs over the side of her bed to stand up. ''I'll just put the lights on.'' She gave the command, and the room was instantly illuminated.

I spotted the computer at the foot of her bed. ''Are you watching something?''

''Yep, a movie I've always wanted to see. It's called _Kill Bill_ ; have you seen it?''

I smiled. ''No, I haven't. Is it any good?''

''Well… that's a good question. It's so bad that it's kind of good. It was made in _my_ time, so it's massively out of date for you. But the graphics leave a lot to be desired, even for then. Whenever anybody is stabbed they spurt blood five feet in the air like a fountain.''

'' _What?_ Is that what you usually choose to watch?'' It seemed so out of character for somebody with such a carefree, friendly nature.

''No. I usually like films that aren't nearly so violent, and have a solid, relatively complex plot. This one is very simple, and they drag it out over two films instead of just making it one. It's really just an ex-assassin going on a revenge killing spree of some old colleagues for massacring everyone at her wedding.''

''Lovely.'' Looking at the picture, I saw a blonde woman sword-fighting with another woman wearing oriental clothes. The outfit was already stained with blood. ''Doesn't this have a _rating?_ Adults only?''

Willow looked slightly sheepish. ''Ah, yes. It _is_ an eighteen, but the computer didn't stop me. Besides, I – well, me and Doctor Crusher – worked out that I'm eighteen in eighteen days. Ha!'' Her expression then changed to coy. ''You're not thinking of _reporting_ me, are you?''

Laughing, I said ''I think you know very well that I won't.''

She grinned. ''I do, yes. And I'm guessing you didn't just come here to talk about an old film?''

''No, I didn't. I have some time before I'm needed again, so the Captain recommended we start compiling everything we know about what happened to you. Ideally Data would be here too, but he's needed. He'll come whenever he's able.''

''What, even in the middle of the night?'' It was obvious that her teasing wasn't put on, but her natural response. Somehow, she always managed to make it friendly and light-hearted rather than rude.

''Ha ha. As much as I'd _love_ to chat forever, we need to go to one of the Science Labs. It's the one that Data usually uses, so we can input everything straight into his computer.''

Willow pumped her fist. '' _Yes!_ I _knew_ you had a sarcastic streak.''

I smirked, an expression I hadn't worn for a long time. ''Of course'' I replied. ''I just don't use it too often. It would ruin my reputation.''

''As the nicest guy on the ship?'' she asked as we exited her quarters.

Rather than reply straight away, I was silent for several moments. ''Is that how people see me?''

''Well, yeah. You're always nice to everybody, and I can't actually remember you having an argument.'' She paused. ''Isn't that… good?''

A warm feeling was spreading through my chest. What better confirmation of your qualities than thousands, if not millions of people believing the same thing? Somehow, it was _comforting_ to think that so many people liked me, whatever reality they were in. At first, I had found it creepy that we were being _watched_ the whole time, studied and analysed the same way as any character. But knowing I was seen positively made the watching seem less hostile, and more approachable.

Willow was still looking at me anxiously, so I quickly replied. ''Yeah, it is. Sorry, I'm just… still getting used to the idea.''

Her smile was genuine and understanding. ''I can imagine! If I suddenly found out _I_ was on a TV screen, I think I'd feel really creeped out. And, this might sound strange, but somehow, I would see the watchers as hostile.'' Willow's forehead crinkled as she thought. ''Maybe it's because I wouldn't know who they were, or what they were thinking of me.''

''Wow'' I said, taken aback. ''And if you found out they liked you…''

''I wouldn't see them that way anymore. They'd be more like… distant friends. More approachable.''

I'll admit, I was stunned. Willow had said _exactly_ what I was thinking, and in most of the same words as I had in my head. ''Just what I was thinking.''

''Really? Most people back home would've done their 'Willow's-a-nutter' looks if I came out with something like that.''

''Maybe we just think the same way'' I replied, holding my hand out towards the door of the Lab.

* * *

 _ **Willow**_

Our time in the Lab was both productive and enjoyable. Geordi was easy to work with, so we could get on with it while also having a laugh.

''Okay'' he said, sitting in front of a console and tapping away. ''Let's start with a detailed account of how you got here. Everything you can remember, right from the beginning.''

''Everything?'' I queried. ''Okay. It started when I heard a noise outside. It was a sharp thudding sound that rang through the silence. I was writing an essay – English Lit, due in the next day – and my pen streaked across the page. I ran to the window, but couldn't see anything in the murky gloom, so after a bit of deliberation I decided to venture outside. I crept down the stairs as quietly as I could, then put on the trainers I'm wearing now with my big coat. I thought it would keep me warm better than any of the others. Getting my keys was the most difficult part, as they were in the creaky dresser draw right near my parent's bedroom. I knew that that was the crucial moment, so I gingerly held the handle and…''

''Willow, stop.'' I was so absorbed in telling my story that I hadn't noticed Geordi shaking with laughter. ''You're telling it like it's a fantasy novel. It is _real_ , you know.''

''I know'' I said. ''I'm just adding in lots of detail. You did say _everything_ , after all.''

''Maybe I should rephrase. Tell me everything that might be important. And do it in a more… factional tone.''

''Sorry. That's just _my_ tone. You want it more like a police report?''

''Exactly. No big words.''

'' _None?_ Are you saying the science types can't handle them?''

It's quite remarkable that I could say that to a chief engineer and have him laugh rather than be annoyed.

''I'm sure they could, at least most of them. We just need it as clear as possible, that's all.''

''Fine, no creaky draws.''

After that, we got stuck in. I remembered everything well, and Geordi helped by pushing for the details he _did_ want, like the probable trajectory of the artefact, an exact description of the black box and, most importantly, what it had been like when I transported from my garden to the holodeck.

After my thrilling tale had been told (as scientifically as possible) and saved into the ship's computer, we moved away from the desk to a more comfortable sofa. I couldn't imagine Data had spent much time on it.

''So, sir, what's your professional opinion?''

''Well… it should all be impossible.''

''You've done the impossible before'' I reminded him. ''Many times.''

He laughed again. Apparently, he liked my sense of humour. ''That's true. But this time, I really have no idea. To get you back we'd have to reverse the process that brought you here. But the way you were transported sounds like nothing I've heard of before, so how the hell we replicate that…''

Geordi trailed off in thought. After a few seconds, I asked ''What about the ring? That's what did it, after all.''

''Data studied it, and he can't find a trace of _anything_ that would make it do that. And if _Data_ can't find it…''

''Nobody here can.''

We lapsed into silence for a little while. I thought about exactly what had happened; the ring hadn't done anything to me until…

''I need to put it on.'' I blurted it out into the silence, and Geordi was jarred from thought.

''What? I'm sure Data tried that.''

''I'm sure he did, too. But maybe it has to be me.''

''To make it react only to you is very advanced technology. It's perfectly do-able, but to make that sort of thing undetectable…''

''Maybe we need to think bigger. What's possible for you guys may be different to what's possible for whatever – or whoever – created this ring. Perhaps we need to stop looking at it from our, or really _your_ , perspective. Open our minds to things that shouldn't be possible; it's not like you don't do it on a pretty regular basis.''

Geordi was shaking his head fondly, his mouth curved into a smile. ''You always act like you're an arts person, into literature and creativity, but you seem really logical to me. Open to things, always asking questions.'' He turned and looked me right in the eyes, and it didn't matter that he had a VISOR. I knew what they showed. ''I think you'll be really helpful in working this out.''

Two different emotions battled inside me. Part of me was incredibly touched, wanting to take his hand and thank him for his kind words. But another part of me wanted to laugh incredulously, and sadly that's the part that showed.

'' _Me?_ But I know nothing! I'm no good at science. Well, okay, I got an A in both at GCSE, but I'm taking Biology for A-level and it's just _beyond_ me. _Way_ too complicated. That stuff's on another level, and I'm talking early 21st century! The technology you have here is mind-blowing, so me talking about thinking beyond that is just hot air. Sure, I believe it, and could imagine it, but I'm a million miles from actually understanding it.''

The hopelessness I felt had leaked out during my rant, and my eyes were watering. **I'm not going to cry, not going to cry.**

My companion looked unsure, almost nervous. After seemingly thinking about it, he reached out a hand and took one of mine. It felt warm, comforting and safe.

''Hey'' he said gently. ''It's okay. We _will_ get you home, and you don't have to be involved at all if you don't want to be. I simply meant it as a compliment.''

I blinked fast to try to get rid of my tears, and managed a watery smile. ''I know. Thank you. I'm not upset because of that; I'm just feeling very… down. Which is normal, obviously, considering I'm away from everything I know. Counsellor Troi thinks I haven't broken down yet because I need time to process what's happening. My mind hasn't accepted it as a reality yet. A bit like when somebody dies and you have that numb period before you really start crying. Not that anybody has _died,_ or anything, just…''

I trailed off, knowing I was just rambling. Geordi's smile was soft.

''She's probably right; she usually is. Try not to worry about it too much, and go see her if you need to. And…'' Then _he_ trailed off. ''If you need to talk to somebody, I'm happy to listen. I may not be a counsellor, but I can be a friend.''

That was very nearly my undoing. I was so touched I could physically _feel_ it in my chest, like a tiny fire burning with a small glow. Why do I always want to cry when people are _nice_ to me?

Geordi seemed to understand. He squeezed my hand, and I wondered for the millionth time how his face could convey so much emotion with his eyes covered. In the past, I would've wondered how LeVar Burton had managed it, but now I was thinking about the _real_ Geordi. Everything is flipped on its head; fantasy is reality and I don't even know whether reality is fantasy or not.

''I would love to be your friend. More than… a lot of things.''

He pretended to look wounded. ''Not more than anything? I'm hurt.''

Laughter bubbled out of me, and my blues left with it.

The lighter atmosphere led to a good chat, though I couldn't tell you exactly what we discussed. It was just two friends sitting together and talking about what was on their minds.

It must have been longer than we thought, because when Geordi asked the computer for the time it was almost twenty-two-hundred hours.

''Wow. You'd better go back to your quarters, Willow.'' He moved back to the console, and his fingers played over the touchscreen. ''I'm copying your report and sending it to Data's workstation in his quarters. No doubt he'll look at it overnight and come back with a whole host of suggestions in the morning.''

''Yes sir'' I said, bouncing up and giving him a mock salute. ''Let me know when you need me.''

''I will. Have a good night.''

''Thanks. You too'' I replied, thinking of the little purple pills Doctor Crusher had given me.

The doors had just swished open when he called my name. That happens _so_ often in Trek; I guess it was inevitable it would happen to me. I turned around.

''Nice outfit'' he grinned.

It was only then I realised he hadn't already commented. ''Jeans never go out of fashion.''

''Evidently'' he deadpanned.

* * *

Walking back to my quarters, I was only half concentrating on navigating the giant starship. Most of my brain was ruminating, and an old song kept going round and round in my head.

 _What a difference a day makes,_

 _Twenty-four little hours._

Comparing myself to how I was the day before, I felt much more grounded. I now knew where I was in the timeline. I'd had conversations with most of the senior staff. I had also made a real friend, a two-way one that wasn't just people being polite to a new person. If I truly asked myself, I hadn't expected them to be the _first_ friend I made. Second, perhaps, but not first. But I hadn't actually spoken to Data that much, and now I really thought about it, it might take a bit longer to really become friends with him. Not that he was unapproachable, as such, just a bit more distant with people he didn't know so well. But I was determined to get there.

In that moment, I felt I'd reached a turning point. I _was_ grounded, and I _was_ going to make friends. The corner had been turned.

But in retrospect, it was a much _smaller_ corner than the ones that were to come. And quickly.

* * *

 _ **Geordi**_

That wasn't quite the end of the day for me. After Willow had left, I made my way to the Bridge to check in on the mission. Our first two attempts to retrieve the data had failed, and both Commander and Lieutenant Riker had been working on a plan for our third try.

I really felt for my friend when the Lieutenant's plan was chosen. It must be so difficult to meet a double of yourself, and even worse when you don't get along. Data was, naturally, fascinated by the concept.

Idly, I wondered what pearls of wisdom Willow would have to impart. No doubt she would have a view reminiscent of a much older person. She seemed such an old soul in many ways.

And yet… my mind kept playing back to the moment when I had taken her hand. She seemed so vulnerable, and I knew I had to help. The battle of indecision had waged inside my head, and I'd overcome my nerves enough to take it. Her hand had felt so soft, so warm, and just for a moment a tingle had run through me. Only for a split-second, but it was there.

Overall, my day had been captivating. Not just because of puzzles to be solved and philosophical questions to think over. But because I had found out so much about a very interesting new friend.

As my best friend would say, _intriguing_.

* * *

 _ **Author's Notes**_ ** _:_** _I can't apologise enough for the delay. You'd think the holidays would give you loads of time to write, but my brain apparently disagrees. It's not a good time to get writer's block, is it? (And yes, that's totally a thing. At least, it is for me.) But here it is, my first Geordi PoV. At first it just wasn't working - it was too stilted - so I changed it from the 3rd to the 1st person. I hope you like it. I can't say for sure which characters will get a PoV, except that Data definitely will. I already know how I'll write him, and he will be in the 3rd person._

 _Yes, it's another 'conversation chapter'. They're unavoidable for a little while while Willow is settling in. Becoming grounded, as it were. There's plenty of action to come._

 _I should mention that the song 'What Difference A Day Makes' was originally sung by Dinah Washington, I think. All rights go to her and any other applicable parties. (I'm putting this in case I get into trouble for using content that isn't mine. Music won't really be a part of this story, but if any are occasionally included they'll be credited.)_

 _Thanks so much for reading, reviewing and waiting._

 _Woody xxx_


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